


Almost

by CannibalKats



Series: Counting Stars [5]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Blowjobs, M/M, Public Blow Jobs, Yoo7, inturupted blow jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 11:30:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12747426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CannibalKats/pseuds/CannibalKats
Summary: Maybe Seven has been spending a little too much time working, maybe Yoosung is feeling a little neglected, maybe things got a little out of hand in the grocery store parking lot.





	Almost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blackprose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackprose/gifts), [StarlingHawke (Bowm8935)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowm8935/gifts).



> You can thank Blackprose and StarlingHawke for this

Yoosung has been weirdly quiet all day.  Yoosung is almost never quiet unless he’s spending time with Saeran and Seven is concerned.  He knows he’s been busy lately, knows more often than not Yoosung has come over and listened to him ask for another hour while he  _ finished this one thing. _

He knows more often than not he’s forced himself to ignore the hand on his thigh for the laptop on his knees.  Knows more often than he’d like Yoosung has fallen asleep beside him on the couch in the clothing he’d arrived in.  This is all new, and sure he makes his own hours but Jumin’s flexibility is supposed to be used for his brother’s health not his boyfriend’s libido.

Still, he thinks as Yoosung eyes him over the fresh tomatoes in his hand, maybe he should consider making some time.

“I’m going to call this one Saeran,” he tries to joke but Yoosung only rolls his eyes, “it looks grumpy right?” He adds, in case his boyfriend can’t see the way the colouring makes it look like a face.

Yoosung shrugs. “OK fine.”

Seven frowns when his back is turned.  He’s in shit, he’s in so much shit.  Maybe he should take the next week off.  Maybe in a few days when he finish this job, Jumin would understand, last month he took Elly to fashion week, this is kind of like that,  _ right? _

Yoosung disappears, walking off with his back to Seven and not answering him when he calls after and for the entire minute Yoosung is gone Seven thinks this is it.  He’s finally lost him.  Yoosung Kim has come to his senses, he’s gone.

Yoosung comes back.  Cored and peeled pineapple in a little plastic container in his hands.  

“I thought you didn’t eat pineapple, didn’t you tell Saeran you didn’t eat foods that tried to eat you back?” Seven smiles.

“That was you,” Yoosung frowns.

“Oh,” he smiles sheepishly, he knew it was him, he’s glad Yoosung is still talking to him, even if it is curtly. Still there is something about the way his boyfriend is staring at him that brings the rest of the conversation to mind.  His brother smirking at him while Zen and Yoosung picked a movie.  Saeran saying, way louder than necessary, that it was an even trade, getting eaten by food now so he could get eaten by his boyfriend later.

Yoosung had yelped, Zen had blushed and Saeran had explained some theory that Seven was mostly certain was probably bullshit.

“It’s worth consideration,” he tries, “I’d hate to find my boyfriend being devoured by his snack.”

“That’s not who I’m hoping will  _ devour _ me,” Yoosung mumbles.  Barely opens his mouth and Seven isn’t exactly sure he’s heard what he thinks he’s heard because Yoosung isn’t blushing even a little bit.

He swallows, “uh, sorry what Babe?  Did you say something?”

Yoosung turns on his heel and takes 3 quick steps towards him.  Seven has a moment to swallow, to resist the urge to take a step back as Yoosung’s finger hooks in his belt loop and gives him a little tug. “It’s not gonna suck itself,” he growls quietly.

Seven flexes his fingers, presses his lips together and shifts his hips as Yoosung turns and briskly walks to the next row of vegetables. 

He takes a brief moment to gather his thoughts before he follows, that was hot.  Yoosung being forward wasn’t new but that vulgar, Seven suspects he’s perhaps been coached by someone.  Saeran probably. By the time he’s caught up he’s regained his composure, the image of his brother teaching Yoosung vulgar shit to say having some what distracted him

“So,” he starts when Yoosung turns around to drop cabbage and radishes in the cart, “that was new.”

Yoosung shrugs. “You’ve been working a lot.”

“Yep,” he nods and turns his back to scan the row of vegetables. Saeran had given him a very small list he couldn’t forget just because Yoosung said something  _ lewd _ , his brother would never let him live it down. “Sorry about that,” he adds as he looks through the Zucchini, he’s not really sure if it matters how big or small it is, he’s pretty sure Saeran wants the green one not the yellow one.  He turns around running his hand over the length of the vegetable in his hand lost in his own thoughts, “Yoosung do you think size matters?”

Yoosung choking and sputtering brings him back to the moment and he snorts.  Yoosung’s face is practically purple when he catches his breath. “W-what?”

Seven smirks, “I thought I was the one who was supposed to be gagging?”

“Saeyoung,” Yoosung growls.

“You started it,” he chuckles pushing the cart past his stunned boyfriend.  He’s not exactly sure what Yoosung needed to get but he could get his brother’s list finished in under five minutes.  

They split off, words unspoken, meeting back up in the middle of aisles while Yoosung drops an arm load of things into the cart and speed walk away with pink cheeks.  Still when he catches Seven with the door to the freezer open contemplating ice cream flavors he doesn’t let the opportunity pass.  Obscured by the fogged up freezer door Yoosung presses himself against his boyfriend.

Seven starts before he realizes who is behind him, turns just enough to capture Yoosung’s lips with his own.  It would be so easy to melt into this kiss, to lean against the shelves of ice cream and bury his hands in Yoosung’s hair.  To open his mouth and let Yoosung’s tongue slide against his own.

But he doesn’t.  He rests his hands on his boyfriend’s hips and gently pushes him back a few steps.  Smiles at the little distressed noise Yoosung makes when their lips separate. 

“Last stop,” he promises, turning back to the ice cream.

Yoosung steps back up behind him, face pressed between his shoulder blades.  He slips his hands beneath Seven’s shirt and traces the lines of his stomach while he picks an ice cream at random and tosses it in the cart.

Standing in the line to pay is torture. Yoosung’s hand in his pocket at first, and then the line moves and Yoosung tucks himself between Seven and the shelf of candy bars and magazines where no one but Seven knows exactly where Yoosung’s hands are.  Seven could fall to his knees and choke on his dick right now if he thought he wouldn’t get arrested.

They barely make it through the line.  Barely survive bagging their groceries and putting them in the cart.  Yoosung practically starts throwing things in the trunk of Seven’s car and he has to remind him through a chuckle not to bruise Saeran’s vegetables.  When the Cart is empty and Seven is bent over rearranging Yoosung’s hurried mess in his trunk Seven finds his suddenly brazen boyfriend pressed tight against him.

Yoosung’s hands grip and stroke at his sides as he rubs himself against Seven.  Seven presses back and wonders if he stays long enough would Yoosung fuck him right here? Starts to consider that maybe he should neglect his boyfriend a little more frequently if this is what it gets him.  

This time it’s Seven who’s left whimpering when Yoosung turns and starts to wheel the cart back to it’s carousel.

He wonders, as he watches Yoosung jog away from him, how far he can push this Yoosung.  This needy man made of hands who didn’t seem to care that they were at a  _ grocery store _ .  Seven closes the trunk and opens the back door, sits himself on the the seat, feet firmly planted on the pavement and watches his boyfriend jog back to the car.

“Hey,” Yoosung pants, “ready to go?”

Seven licks his lips, watches as Yoosung’s eyes follow his tongue and reaches out to grab his boyfriend by the belt. “I think you made a comment, a challenge really.”

“Y-yeah,” Yoosung nods, “a  _ home _ challenge.”

“Didn’t seem like it a minute ago,” Seven smirks, undoing the button of Yoosung’s pants, “or in the line,” he drags the zipper down, “or in the frozen food section.” Seven hooks his fingers in Yoosung’s boxers and much like Yoosung and his belt loops tugs him forward.  “Definitely didn’t seem like a home thing in the produce section Babe.”

“S-Saeyoung,” Yoosung whines as Seven hooks his foot under the door and pulls it to rest against Yoosung while he tugs his pants down just enough that Yoosung’s half hard cock is freed.

“Mmhmm?” he hums, lips pressed to Yoosung’s tip.  

“Are you, r-really? Here?”

Seven smirks, “Thought you said  _ it wasn’t gonna suck itself _ ?”

“Shit,” Yoosung curses as Seven sucks his cock into his mouth.  He rests his elbows on the roof of Seven’s silver car, presses his forehead against the frame and  _ watches _ his boyfriend swallow him whole.  

Seven’s tongue teases the underside of his cock as he bobs his head along the length.  He has to look away, has to rest his chin on his arms and focus every ounce of his being into not groaning, not fucking into his boyfriend’s face.  Absolutely not looking like he’s getting a blowjob in the middle of a sparsely occupied parking lot in the early evening.

Which is incredibly difficult since all Yoosung wants to do is take Seven by the back of the head and fuck his mouth until his eyes water.

He lasts another minute before he has to stop him.  

“Already?” Seven smirks wiping at the trail of spit and precum collected on his chin.

“Sh-shut up,” Yoosung stammers pushing Seven farther into the car and tugging at his pants.

He lets the door swing shut behind him when he manages to wrestle Seven’s pants free from one leg. He doesn’t even ask when Seven presses a new bottle of lube into his hand.  He doesn’t care.  

Yoosung runs his tongue the length of Sevens cock as he coats his fingers, slipping them into Seven’s tight hole as he covers his cock with his mouth.  Seven whines, his hips jerking as his cock hits the back of Yoosung’s throat.  He curls his fingers, scissoring and stretching and rubbing against his boyfriend’s prostate until they both forget exactly where they are.

He want’s Seven writhing, whining, practically ready to cum before he plans to actually fuck him.

It doesn’t take long.  Yoosung is almost positive that Seven could go years without sex with little to no complaints, but he’s still more sensitive than Yoosung thinks is normal.  Not that Yoosung really has any experiance with that.  He likes the thought regardless.

Likes the way Seven’s back arches off the seat of the car, the way he whines and moans, and shouts Yoosung’s name. Likes the way his hands tighten in his hair and his hips snap up burying Yoosung’s nose in curly red hairs.  Likes the way he yelps when someone taps on the window.

_ Shit _ .

Yoosung freezes as Seven shoves at his face.  He tucks himself back in his pants as he scrambles back to sit against the far door trying not to make eye contact with the security guard standing outside the car with his knuckle pressed against the window.

“Don’t worry about,” Seven says quietly as he swings his legs off the seat and opens the door.  He doesn’t even try to cover himself. “Hey this isn’t what it looks like.” he says, smiling brightly.

“It looks like-” the security guard starts but Seven interrupts him.

“Oh  _ god _ ,” Seven snorts, moving like he’s going to get out of the car, pants still tangled around one ankle.  The guard holds out a hand to stop him. “Oh man, did you  _ think _ \-  _ wow _ . No, no,  _ wow _ , no you thought?” He laughs, slaps his bare thigh and doubles over. 

The two security guards outside the car laugh nervously.

“I got bit by a spider,” Seven offers when he stops laughing.

“Kid I don’t care what you call it,” the man starts, “we both kno-”

“A poisonous spider was in the tomatoes we bought, I swear!” He says, hands up in supplication.

“You’re trying to tell me,” one guard starts.

“You expect us to believe,” says the other, “that all that  _ noise _ was a spider bite?”

“Have  _ you _ ever been bit by a spider?” Seven asks.

“No,” they answer and Yoosung can see the doubt start.

“It hurts,” Seven says.

“That’s not-”

“He’s a masochist,” Yoosung mumbles, he knows his face is red.  He knows his lips are swollen and it’s obvious that Seven wasn’t bit by a poisonous spider but he might as well commit. “S-so he l-lik-”

“Ok, I get it,” the first guard says quickly.

“It was a banana spider,” Yoosung says, a little more confident, “I h-had to suck the venom out.”

By the time they’re done making excuses Seven still looks totally unphased, the security guards look shaken and confused.  They’re not banned from the shopping complex but Yoosung isn’t sure he ever wants to be seen here again.  His heart his pounding and he’s fairly certain that neither of the guards believe them but also neither knew enough about spider bites to dispute what they were saying.

Especially after Seven practically shouted, “He should know, he’s a Vet!”

Seven laughs as they walk away and sorts out his pants, the two of them get out of the back of the car and into the front.  Half way home Yoosung starts to laugh, Seven follows, the two of them laughing so hard that Seven has to pull over while they collect themselves.

They park in the garage, and manage to carry the groceries in one trip between the two of them.  Saeran meets them in the kitchen. He digs through the bags until he finds the ice cream,  and frowns when he opens the container.

“This is melted, what the fuck?”

Yoosung can only laugh, practically collapsing on the counter in the Choi’s tiny kitchen.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I make jokes on twitter about a friends slowburn yoo7 that is killing me and end up writing my own bullshit yoo7 smut.


End file.
